Looking Out From Underneath
by Eijentu
Summary: Kurogane/Fai post-series relationship fic. Kurogane's not one to believe in fate, but he's willing to concede some things are inevitable. Written for Reikah. MA-15.


**NOTES:** No warnings that I can think of, except for all the **spoilers**, and language, I suppose. Post-series Kurofai relationship fic. Rated M-15.

For Reikah, whose beautiful fic Playing Cards www. fanfiction s/ 8500333/1/ Playing-Cards is set later in this same verse. If you haven't read that, you need to do this right now, followed quickly by the rest of her amazing fic.

* * *

Kurogane takes a mouthful of sake and settles back on the porch. It's quiet here at the back of the shrine, the pure air of this place sweetened by incense and smoke from the evening's ritual. Another day, another wedding – they landed in Shara eight days ago, and it seems there's been an endless succession of the things since. The circus troupe are in town, and maybe that's why: absent lovers reuniting with the sweethearts they left behind, or travelling pairs taking the opportunity to say their vows in the place they always come back to, the place where there are familiar faces and welcoming smiles and all the comforts only ever truly found at home.

He raises the bottle to his lips and takes another swig. It's good sake he's drinking, and he savours the taste of it smooth on his tongue. Kurogane doesn't know how many days it's been since he was home, in Nihon, making Souma shout and Amaterasu smirk; since he knelt before Tomoyo, his princess, his master, his name on her lips and his soul laid bare and all his sins forgiven. He doesn't keep track of stuff like that – that's Fai's department – but it feels like it's been… a while. They met the Tomoyo of Piffle not long ago – useful, his arm in dire need of work despite the wizard's efforts through the years – and there was a woman in the image of Souma in the world before last, but these people are not his people, no matter whose faces they're wearing.

Most of the time, Kurogane's OK with that.

Once, a year or two ago now, he thought he caught a glimpse of a tall man, strong-jawed and tanned and hair bound at his neck, escorting a dark-haired woman through the streets of another world. He'd stared for a minute, not sure, not sure at all – but then Fai had touched his shoulder, asked if he was alright, and he'd lost sight of them in the crowd.

He hadn't gone after them. Those ghosts have long been laid to rest, and he has no desire to rouse them.

But there's another celebration in full swing tonight: one of the tumblers from the troupe wedded to a baker from the Yuuka-ku, both women flushed and smiling amidst a flurry of silk and scattered blossom. They don't seem to need a priest here – the exchange of rings is witnessed by the guests, and there's always plenty of those – but the kannushi from the jinja had blessed the couple anyway; he'd touched ash to their foreheads and wished them a long and happy union in the names of Yasha and Ashura.

Which probably isn't out of the question, Kurogane thinks. The women had looked happy.

The kannushi himself has changed little in the years since they last came to this world, and Kurogane might've wondered about the flow of time if not for the chubby-cheeked boy clinging to the man's robes. He'd started wailing loudly in the middle of the blessing, and an older girl, closer to eight or nine, maybe, came forward to peel him away. She'd glowed at the grateful look her father flashed her, and Fai had shifted beside him, then; he'd looked to see the wizard watching with a small, soft smile.

Kurogane kind of likes looking at that smile - but that is his own fucking business.

But if the kannushi hasn't changed much, well, Kurogane supposes the same can't be said for his guests (though who would know the workings of a manjuu's mind well enough to say?). Kurogane sat in this place with Fai then too, drinking and talking – or listening, on his part. Fai had talked endlessly, of course: chattered on about how impressive Kurogane looked while taking on the men of the jinja, and how kind of their host to supply such good liquor, and speaking of that, wasn't it amazing they had something to actually fit such a big, grumpy ninja?

It had washed over Kurogane like water, a self-sustaining stream of noise, and in the end all he noticed was how Fai didn't mention the name that had stripped the colour from his cheeks, that had made him tremble and turn away in the dim light of Yasha's shrine.

Kurogane lowers the bottle to rest against his thigh. Nothing would make him trade places with that Kurogane, arm or no arm.

Then, 'Ah, Kuro-sama really is becoming a lightweight if he's slowing down already.'

And that makes him scowl. He holds his liquor now as well as he ever did, no matter what the bastard says.

He looks up as Fai saunters along the porch towards him. The wizard has a bottle in one hand, less than half-full, judging by the sloshing, and a plate of something in the other. He's looking slightly dishevelled at this end of the evening – the ribbon's coming loose in his hair, and his cheeks are certainly more flushed than they would've been once. But it's late now, and quiet, and they're both edging towards bed. None of that matters much.

And at least the idiot's not fucking meowing.

'Syaoran's about one drink away from agreeing to join Karen-dayuu's troupe as an acrobat,' Fai says cheerfully, plopping himself down beside Kurogane. He smells faintly of smoke up close, the tang of cooked meat worked into his clothes, and sure enough, when Kurogane looks, there are skewers of chicken on the wizard's plate.

Kurogane huffs a breath and says, 'I thought that was only for women.'

'It is,' replies Fai, and chuckles. 'Syaoran's about two drinks away from agreeing to masquerade as a young lady for the event as well.'

Huh. Well, it won't be the most stupid thing the kid's ever worn, that's for sure. Kurogane tips the bottle back again, and then it's quiet for a bit, the only sound the rustling of Fai's yukata as he digs into his food.

'Did you want one of these?' he asks, glancing up enquiringly.

Kurogane thinks about it for a second before deciding that, no, unlike the wizard and the bottomless pit he calls a stomach, one round of gorging was enough for one night. He shakes his head, watching with mild disdain as the wizard tears the meat from the skewer, and then something sly slips into Fai's expression.

'Kuro-bun might wish he'd had the extra protein later,' he says, smile wicked. 'It's important for maintaining stamina, you know.'

There was a time, once, when something like that that would've had Kurogane blushing and shouting and not knowing where to look – and, once, that's exactly why the wizard would've said it. Kurogane doesn't regret any of that, because it was new and it was different, and they were both trying to walk a line that blurred beneath their step – but that was then, a long time ago, and things are different now.

That was then.

Tonight, Kurogane knows exactly where to look. His lips quirk upwards as he meets the wizard's eye and he says, quite casually, 'Oh, yeah?'

Fai grins back, a flash of white in the gloom. He moves his empty plate from the space between them, reaches out and sets aside their sake as well; he climbs into Kurogane's lap, drags the hem of the ninja's yukata indecently high while he's at it, and it's a good thing there's no-one around, because otherwise Kurogane might have to kill them.

Well, some things are for Fai's eyes only.

This is something else they didn't do then. Fai leans down, pale hair loose about his face, and his eyelids drift shut as he presses his lips to Kurogane's. It's a kiss they've shared countless times – never quite the same, of course, but it's familiar, right, their mouths moving together in well-practiced fashion. There's no hesitation here: no awkward, messy snarl of saliva and teeth. Fai's tongue slips out to gently fuck Kurogane's mouth; the sensation curls heat in his blood, and Kurogane never tires of these fingers on his face, this weight in his lap, warm and alive and real.

The wizard moves forward, thighs shifting about Kurogane's hips as he leans into the kiss. There's not much between them now, just the cotton of Fai's robe, and Kurogane can feel the wizard growing hard against him. That's something else he never tires of – and he's halfway there himself, so he slides a hand down the wizard's back, around the curve of his arse and rocks him into the barest of grinds. Fai moans, a tiny, dry sound at the back of his throat, and that doesn't do much to damp the want in Kurogane's belly.

(This is now.)

This is the shiver up his spine and the swell in his chest, the nails in his hair and the sweat on his brow, and this is Fai pulling back with smile sharp and eyes bright; the man staggers to his feet, fingers curled in dark cloth, and then he laughs, tugs Kurogane upright, leads the way to a room at the end of the porch.

This is now.

* * *

'Kuro-min, could you pass me that…'

Kurogane glances over as Fai waves a hand towards a table that contains at least half a dozen things, and he'd probably scowl at that if he weren't already scowling, brows drawn down as he ponders the eternal question of just what the fuck the wizard thinks he's doing now.

He runs a hand over his face, and mutters, 'Is this really going to work?'

'Of course it's going to work, Kuro-sceptic,' sings Fai. He skips over to the table himself and selects something that wasn't even in view, last Kurogane checked. 'Easiest thing in the world. What could go wrong?'

'Yeah, last time you said that, stuff caught fire.'

The wizard laughs, of course. 'Well, that's true,' he says, far too agreeably for Kurogane's liking, and then, 'Here, hold this.'

Fai shoves something into his hand, and Kurogane turns it over, regards it with the deep suspicion it (probably) deserves. 'What's it for?' he asks.

'Regulating the pressure in the system,' says Fai, bending to tinker at something else. 'Be careful with it – without that we'll likely have an explosion on our hands.'

Kurogane presses a hand to his forehead and wonders about the 'we' part of that sentence.

When he lowers his arm again, Fai's standing in front of him, blue-gold eyes mirthful and a smudge of grease on his jaw. He holds out a hand for the (incredibly fucking vital) part, and says, 'Kuro-sama, trust me.'

And Kurogane sighs. 'Yeah.'

(Fai smiles, sunshine bright, makes something in Kurogane's chest screw up tight.)

The wizard goes back to his contraption. 'Karen-dayuu says she wants to use it in the closing show,' he says conversationally. 'You know, the one before the troupe starts travelling again.'

They might be travelling themselves before that, but this is something Fai knows and so Kurogane doesn't bother to say it. Instead he casts another eye over the hunk of metal before him, and says, 'Why don't you just use magic to make it work, idiot?'

And Fai grins. 'It's more fun this way.'

Kurogane snorts and reaches to pluck a smaller wrench from a box on the table. Yeah. That's what he thought.

* * *

'I found out why there are so many weddings happening right now,' Syaoran says pleasantly, helping himself to another square of tofu. They're eating on the porch again tonight, the heat of the day still lingering in their rooms. 'It's based on a superstition about the gods in the shrine.'

Kurogane glances shortly at the kid, then helps himself to another serving of rice. He might as well get settled – the kid's got his anthropologist face on, so it's fair to assume the explanation's not going to be brief. Once Syaoran gets started on the local customs (beliefs, cuisine, architecture, language, choice of footwear, preference for bathroom fittings), he's not easily swayed off-topic.

('You know,' said Fai, as he lounged on the bed of another world, 'I was very nearly tempted to shout, "Look, there's Sakura!" when he started on about the significance of their toenail clippings. Not that it wasn't interesting, but…'

'Tche! It wasn't interesting, but you wouldn't do that.'

Fai had laughed. 'No,' he admitted. 'I wouldn't do that.')

The wizard says, 'Oh, really? I thought it was just because of the circus being here now, all the people in town at the one time.'

Syaoran shakes his head. 'That's part of it, but there's more. This is an auspicious time here – the new moon coincides with the Feast of Yasha, and the full moon falls on the Feast of Ashura. All marriages that occur between the two nights are thought to be, well, arranged by the hands of the gods.' Now the kid blushes slightly, pink tingeing his ears. 'On the last night there's a huge celebration, apparently. Suzuran-san was talking to me about it earlier.'

He hesitates, and for a moment he looks younger, more a boy than a man. Then, 'It's tradition that the ceremony on that night is open to anyone. Lots of people get married all together, so she says.'

The kid's voice is quiet, and he's probably thinking about Sakura, his princess, the person he loves enough not to regret all the things he otherwise would. Kurogane glances at Fai, then: the wizard's brow is creased slightly, lips pulled thin, and he stays like that for a moment until he says, 'Sounds like there'll be a lot of booze, Kuro-sama.'

And Kurogane nods. 'Yeah.'

The conversation moves to the circus (in particular the troupe's epic hangovers with the recent abundance of wedding sake), and then Syaoran remembers something he read in the scroll library at the jinja – an extensive collection, the kid's been spending his days there while Kurogane and Fai earn their collective keep – and the anthropologist emerges again. The rings, Syaoran says, must be silver, and they're worn on the third finger of the right hand – which sounds like pretty much everywhere, but Kurogane refrains from saying so. He's made that mistake before.

('Oh, it's the same custom, yes,' Syaoran said eagerly, face flushed with interest, 'but they do it for different reasons. You see, the piercings in Mura were to designate social status in the community, whereas in Infinity they were more for… well, for… for personal…'

And there the kid had sputtered to a halt.

'Mmm,' Fai had drawled. 'Well, quite.')

Yeah. No.

But Syaoran's still talking about silver – it's reminiscent of the moon, he explains, which in turn symbolises Yasha and Ashura's eternal devotion to each other. Far as Kurogane can recall, the moon symbolised something else in the dark, brutal world of the gods on the shrine – sweat and blood and battle and death – but bringing that up seems like it might kill the mood. So he doesn't.

(That was then, and this is now, and everything changes with time.)

But after the meal, as they gather the dishes to return to the jinja's kitchens, Syaoran's talk drifts back to the wedding festival. 'Anyone can join in,' he says, and his eyes shine with warmth. 'It's for anyone.'

Fai's mouth does that thing again: lips tight, corners angled down – and then Mokona bounces in, all covered in smuts, and tells them about her adventures with the clowns and the cannon in the big top of the circus.

(This is now.)

That night the wizard is quiet when he bids Syaoran goodnight; he reaches down to touch the kid's face briefly, and Kurogane figures he's thinking of Sakura in Clow and all the days since they've seen her. And Kurogane would think of that too, except when Syaoran said 'anyone' (and he said it more than once), it wasn't in the same sombre tone Kurogane's come to associate with the kid missing his princess; Syaoran's gaze had flicked towards him, quicker than quick, and there was a hint of a smile tugging his mouth.

Fai douses the lamp, leans to kiss Kurogane wet on the cheek, and Kurogane thinks sometimes (quite often) that life would be easier if he was the kind of guy that didn't notice shit like that.

* * *

'Now, just support that nozzle while I attach this bit...'

'Forget it. This is where the thing comes out, right? I'm happy with my head where it is, thanks.'

(A chuckle) 'Yes, I'm happy with where your head is too, Kuro-sama. It makes kissing much easier…'

'Tche.'

'So I have no intention of rearranging things after all this time. Now, nozzle.'

'Tche!'

* * *

There's a small silversmith's shop in one of the side streets of Yuuka-ku. Kurogane knows, because he usually ends up passing it on delivery runs for the troupe, his arms full of costumes or lumber or whatever other random fucking thing needs hauling from point A to point B on that particular day.

It's here the people of this world buy the rings - bands - they exchange to be married, and Kurogane supposes the proprietor must be enjoying the recent upswing in matrimonial enthusiasm. He pokes his head inside one day, just to have a look, in peace, without that damned manjuu singing nonsense or the kid blushing from top to toe (which he's been doing a lot of in their time in this world, and Kurogane can only assume means their next visit to Clow will be even busier than the last).

That's fine by him.

The smith looks up when he walks in – his eyes widen briefly at the sheer size of the customer filling his (very small) shop, but he smiles all the same, tells Kurogane to ask if there's anything he needs before returning his attention to the coils on his workbench. Kurogane's pretty sure he doesn't need anything, but he takes a look anyway: there's an ornamental dagger that would be nice if he needed one, and a silver ball on a chain that he might mention to Syaoran; it'd make a pretty gift, and he knows Sakura is never too far from the kid's thoughts. There are bangles and cups, bright edged and polished, and then his eye is drawn by a strange twist of metal at the far end of the counter, stuck through with a pin, that looks vaguely familiar.

Kurogane turns to the smith, and points. 'What's that for?' he asks.

The smith puts down his pliers, and comes over, frowning a bit until he catches sight of what the ninja's referring to. 'Oh, that's for hair – an adornment,' he says. 'It's also good for keeping the wearer's hair out of their face. I could show you if…' but then the man stops, a hand hovering near his head. His hair is short, rather like Kurogane's own, and with no-one else in the shop, a demonstration seems unrealistic.

Kurogane waves the offer off anyway. He doesn't need to see, because he'd sort of figured out what it was – his mother had had something similar when he was a child. He's not sure whether Fai would like it – for someone with such long hair, the man is surprisingly careless about it, content to pull it back into a ponytail with whatever happens to hand – but he'll keep it in mind anyway.

Now he's seen what the fuss is about, it's time to get going – but just as the smith settles back at his workbench, Kurogane says, 'You sell rings here, right?'

The man looks up sharply, the expression on his face only slightly more stunned than the surprise welling in Kurogane's own chest – but then he smiles once more and abandons his tools.

'We do sell rings,' the smith says, still smiling, and Kurogane's not sure yet if that smile is irritating or not. 'But matrimonial bands we make to fit the wearer.'

Kurogane raises an eyebrow at that. 'Oh, yeah? Any particular reason?'

Frankly it sounds like a way to wangle more money out of the customer – something bespoke is going to cost more than a piece off the rack – but the smith just chuckles softly and says, 'Well, even if it wasn't traditional, which it is, I'm afraid I wouldn't have anything to fit a gentleman of your proportions.'

Kurogane follows the man's line of vision to his own broad palm set upon the counter and huffs. Figures. The smith goes back to his workbench then and pulls out a small box; it's lined with soft cloths, and nestled amongst the folds are glimmers of silver, bright polished circles that seem to glow in the murk of the shop.

'Here are some samples of our most popular designs,' explains the smith, and slides the box across the counter towards Kurogane. 'You choose one, and then we make the bands to your measurements – and your betrothed's, of course.'

As far as Kurogane's aware, he hasn't said a fucking word about buying rings or bands or anything else for that matter – but he can do without the hard sell that'll likely result from pointing that out. Instead he pulls the box towards him and pokes cautiously at the contents.

They're all a bit different. One is a circle of clasped hands, another an impossibly intricate band of knotwork. There are some with jewels and some with etching and some with other metals worked into the silver. Kurogane looks at them all, and he supposes they're pretty, but none of them are what he'd choose.

He says, 'Don't you have anything… plainer?'

The smith doesn't say anything right away, just eyes him thoughtfully. They stand that way for a minute, Kurogane waiting and other man silent, and then the smith goes to pull a small pouch from a drawer in his workbench. He places it on the counter with slightly unsteady hands, and Kurogane raises an eyebrow at that – a smith with a tremor kind of seems destined to fail – but then the pouch is flipped open and two bands of silver spill from its mouth.

(Bright, bright silver.)

Kurogane picks up the larger of the two rings. It looks like it might actually fit and he could just…Yeah. The band slips neatly over the third finger of his right hand as though it were made for him, and the ninja feels a rush of satisfaction then. 'Looks like you've got something that fits after all,' he says, and doesn't quite bother to hide his smirk.

It feels good, this ring. It feels right.

He tears his eyes away from the thing to look back at its maker, and then he stops. The man's face is flushed with something like excitement, and the tremor in his hand has spread to his shoulders and arms.

Kurogane narrows his eyes and says, 'What?'

The smith looks up, smiling softly. 'No, nothing. I just never thought… Well, it's been so long. I never thought you'd come, that's all.'

'Huh?'

'For the bands,' the man says; he laughs then, a gentle, almost childlike sound, and Kurogane sighs. It seems to be his lot in life that he gets attached to idiots that want to babble at him about things that just don't make sense, and the easiest thing would probably be to leave the rings and just walk out, forget all about this…

He says instead, 'What are you talking about?'

The smith seems to register some of Kurogane's what-the-fuck expression then. He stops laughing, pulls himself together a bit. 'I made these,' he says, gesturing to the one still on the counter, and some dim part of Kurogane's brain suggests it'd probably fit Fai, 'according to measurements I was given a long time ago. You see, there was something I wanted, something impossible,' and here a faint smile plays at the man's mouth, 'but there was only one person who could help grant my wish.' He trails off for a moment, lost, perhaps, in his memory of that time, but then he stirs, meets Kurogane's eye once more. 'That person told me that in return for her help, I had to make these rings, just like this, and keep them here until the right people came to claim them.'

Kurogane's first thought is fucking meddlesome witch; his second has his head bowed low for a moment.

Then, 'So, how much do you want for them?'

The smith blinks. 'Want for… Nothing at all!' Kurogane narrows his eyes, and at that, the smith frowns, reaches down to scoop the second ring back into the soft pouch: he fumbles slightly with his still-shaky hands. 'They're yours. They were made for you,' he says, and thrusts the pouch towards Kurogane. His grey eyes are wide and imploring as he says, 'Take them!'

Kurogane takes the rings – but only because he'd liked them anyway.

* * *

As he walks back towards the jinja, the rings in the pouch tucked safe in the waistband of his hakama, Kurogane thinks over the smith's story. He doesn't believe in fate or any of that shit – if fate had had its way all those years ago, he'd be a different man today, and it's not a thought he cares for much. Fate is something for those afraid to carve their own path in life, and Kurogane has never been that; he never intends to be either.

But he's lost track of how many days (months, years) since the wizard changed into something else for him, how many meetings of lips and exchanging of glances and how many nights slept side by side; it seems like a lot, and Kurogane hasn't regretted any of them yet. He's willing to concede that maybe something like this was inevitable.

Inevitable that he would choose it, that is.

* * *

The tent is full by the time the wizard emerges from backstage, spectators packed into the bench seats and calling out here and there to the hawkers moving through: they're selling pieces of dough, fried and rolled in sugar. The smell is overpoweringly sweet. Fai's face lights up at the sight of it all, and his grin is mile-wide as he threads through the din, makes his way to the place where Kurogane sits alone.

Then the smile drops away. 'Kuro-rin, what are you doing all the way back here?' Fai says; his tone is disapproving. 'You're hardly going to see anything here.'

And that's probably true, but Kurogane has no intention of budging. 'It's fine,' he says, and crosses his arms.

Fai frowns, mouth working towards a pout. 'But I saved you a seat at the front.'

'I told you, it's fine.'

Kurogane dips his head, lowers his brow. Silence.

He braces himself for the inevitable hands that will worm their way around his arms, that will drag him upright and away from his seat – only they don't come. The silence stretches on, and Kurogane looks up again, wary this time; finds the wizard watching him with a thoughtful expression. Never a good sign, and Kurogane's just trying to figure out what the man's pondering, or worse still, plotting, when Fai smiles, says, 'Alright, Kuro-stubborn. I'll see you afterwards. Enjoy the show.'

And skips off into the crowd once more.

Which is kind of unsettling. Kurogane might've chosen this seat for a reason, but the wizard doesn't know that, so why he's given up so easily…

But maybe the bastard figured it out anyway.

(This is now.)

The show starts fifteen minutes late, by Kurogane's reckoning. The crowd roars and shrieks, a roiling mass of limbs, and the tent is awash with bright, shimmering light. It bounces and dances and floats on the canvas, and then in the middle of it all, Karen-dayuu takes the stage, resplendent in flames of orange and red.

She says, 'Tonight you will see magical things.'

And introduces the first act.

Truthfully, Kurogane doesn't pay much attention to what follows. There's a lot of… colour and noise and the crowd seems to enjoy it, if their screams are any indication. Syaoran appears at one point, his face redder than anything. Kurogane scoffs quietly at any fool who would take that for a girl – the mere cut of his shorts gives him away. But the kid does his turn with good grace all the same: he kicks and rolls, does a couple of tricky-looking somersaults. The crowd shrieks with approval, and Kurogane shakes his head, thinks if Syaoran ever pulled that shit in a real fight, he'd have his arse handed to him in three seconds flat.

The show goes on.

Kurogane's just wondering how much longer the idiots with the face paint will be on stage when someone drops into the seat next to him, slides up uncomfortably close.

And Kurogane stiffens. It's not the wizard, so what the fuck?

He glances right, ready to give the kind of look that will make whoever-it-is reconsider the move, and barely stifles a groan at what finds. 'Tche! It's you,' he says, scowling instead.

The man next to him smiles broadly. His own eyes are hidden behind the tint of his glasses, and, 'It's been a while,' he says: affably too. He makes it sound as though they're fucking friends or something. 'Although…'

'Yeah, yeah,' Kurogane cuts him off with a wave. 'I've heard all that before. What are you doing here?'

Fuuma tips his head towards the stage. 'Same as you, Kurogane-san,' the bastard says, still smiling, still smiling. 'Enjoying the show.'

'You've missed most of it.'

'My apologies.' The man (troublemaker) grins wider than ever. 'Travelling between worlds doesn't always run to time.'

'Tche!'

But the roar of the crowd makes it difficult to continue their talk. The clowns are gone, replaced by tumbling acrobats, and this, Kurogane supposes, must be the grand finale. And so he leans forward a bit, in part to get away from the creep at his side, but also because... well. Just to see.

Fai slips out between the tent flaps, quiet and quick. The lower stage is dark now, the lights tracking the acrobats above: they're a whirl of hands and feet that catch the eye, draw it away from the skinny blond man and his contraption at the side of the stage.

But not Kurogane's eye.

The acrobats tumble faster and the crowd cheers louder and above it all Kurogane can make out the steady thud-thud of a taiko in the street: it's a summons, a call to the wedding festival so very near at hand. Fai crouches low, hands moving quick, and then there's a bang, a puff of grey smoke. Kurogane cranes his head in spite of himself, looking, looking – and then rising through the dark there's a flare of brilliant blue.

The crowd gasps, and as one tilt their faces towards the roof of the tent.

It's a pretty show, Kurogane has to give the wizard that. Light screams through the air, exploding in flowers of blue, gold, and white. It's hard to believe this is not magic. Fai stands off to the side, his face smeared with dust, but even from his corner Kurogane can see the grin stretched across it.

(And from his corner, the lights look better too.)

As the last flare dies out amidst the roar of the crowd, Karen-dayuu returns to the spotlight. She holds up a hand for quiet, and when she (mostly) has it, she smiles, says, 'On the Feast of Ashura, please make your way to the shrine for a celebration of love.'

Just as abruptly, she's gone.

Not that it matters much. The audience are on their feet and pouring from the tent, though Kurogane notes (with some irritation) the bastard beside him seems in no great hurry to leave. But that's his business. Kurogane stands and makes his way through the masses – not so difficult when they quake and jump out of your way – until he reaches Fai at the foot of the stage.

He says, 'You've got dirt all over your face.'

And Fai turns towards him, sweat-streaked and filthy and crumbs of grit in his hair. He smiles that smile, makes tiny dark lines in the corners of his eyes, and Kurogane's heart does something strange and quick in his chest.

'It blew up in my face,' the wizard says happily. He laughs and steps closer (alive and bright and real). 'How bad does it look?'

Kurogane drags the sleeve of his (black) haori across the idiot's forehead, and says, 'It's fine.'

(This is now.)

But perhaps Fai can feel the grime clinging to his skin; he uses his own (decidedly not black) sleeve to wipe more of it away, scrubbing at his face and neck for a minute or two. Then he glances up at Kurogane. The wizard's eyes gleam in a very particular way, and, 'Did Kuro-back row get a good view of the lights?' he asks with a satisfied grin.

(Alive and bright and too fucking smug.)

Syaoran appears then with Mokona (the shorts mercifully absent). The manjuu rides atop the kid's head; she raises a tiny paw, shouts, 'Fuuma!' and bounds through the air, and that's when they all notice the man loitering behind them.

Kurogane had hoped the bastard would get lost in the crowd – but that's probably too much to ask of a man who travels the worlds.

'Fuuma-san!' exclaims Syaoran, the surprise plain on his face. 'What are you doing here?'

Fuuma smiles his easy smile, waves a hand as though this is all perfectly routine. 'I came to deliver something,' he says glibly, and Fai narrows his eyes.

Syaoran says, 'Oh. But Yuuko-san…'

'Isn't the person I'm delivering for.' And with that, Fuuma turns his attention to the white furry thing nuzzling his shoulder.

But before anyone can ask what the hell that's supposed to mean, Karen-dayuu joins the conversation. She looks around at them all, ignores Fuuma's raised eyebrows, and says, 'Aren't you going to the shrine?' The dull thud of the taiko is gathering speed. 'The procession's about to begin.'

Syaoran blinks. 'Procession?'

Karen nods. 'From the Yuuka-ku to the jinja. All the couples participating in the ceremony walk together.' She smiles, sudden and sweet. 'Are none of you taking part?'

(In a small, soft pouch, tucked into the waistband of a much-abused hakama, there are two rings of silver, and each ring perfectly fits one man in their midst.)

Kurogane shifts his weight from one foot to another.

Mokona cries, 'Getting married looks like fun! Fuuma and Syaoran should participate in the ceremony so we can drink lots and lots of sake to toast them!'

And it's incredibly satisfying to see the smile freeze on that slimy bastard's face.

Syaoran coughs, and Karen-dayuu chuckles at that. 'I'm not sure that would be a match arranged by the hands of the gods,' she says, her tone wry. 'You might have to find someone else to toast instead.'

Mokona thinks for a minute. 'Ah! Then Fai-mummy and Kuro-daddy should get married!' she chirps, and then – then everything grinds to a halt.

Fai's eyes widen briefly (ever so briefly) before he laughs, high and thin. One hand goes up to tug at his ponytail, rake through the ends, and he says, 'Well, we don't have any rings, Mokona, so I'm afraid we can't.'

The wizard's tone is light and gentle. Vaguely patronising, in fact, and Kurogane would object to being fobbed off like that if it were him – with a play-pretend excuse fit for a child – but that's the manjuu's business. He's more interested in what lies beneath it.

Because if exchanging vows isn't Fai's thing - and Kurogane's not sure either way, if he's honest - well, that's fine. It doesn't change anything – they'll still sleep together that night and wake tangled in the morning – but if a lack of equipment is the wizard's only excuse, then…

Well, fuck it.

He clears his throat. 'I, uh… have rings.'

Five heads swivel towards him quicker than one of Souma's throwing blades. Kurogane looks down to dig the pouch from his waistband – because he needs to see what he's doing, not because of the utterly frozen expression on Fai's face – and then he holds up the bag, tips the rings into his hand.

Such bright silver against the dark of his palm.

Fai's face is perfectly smooth as he stares at the rings. Kurogane's aware of the others melting into the crowd, and he'll thank Syaoran later for his part in that – for keeping inquisitive manjuus out of the way, if nothing else.

The kid may make a lousy girl, but he's good in other ways.

Kurogane sighs and steps closer. 'You don't have to… We don't have to. It doesn't change anything if you don't want to.'

And he's not sure he likes the smile that appears on the wizard's face then: it's bright and crooked and a little too quick. 'This isn't just about me,' says Fai, eyes crinkling shut. 'What about what Kuro-tan wants to do?'

Kurogane snorts. 'I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to, idiot.'

And then – then Fai smiles for real, his whole face light and warm. Kurogane can feel his own lips starting to quirk; there's something rising and twisting in his chest, making his throat dry, making his breath quicken, though he's pretty sure he doesn't give a fuck about that right now.

'Well, actually,' Fai says, and he moves nearer as well, gazes up at Kurogane with sly mismatched eyes, 'Kuro-sama hasn't asked me anything yet.'

Huh?

Kurogane opens his mouth, says nothing, and shuts it again. He ignores the giggles coming from a man he knows to be at least twice his age, because his heart is still doing odd things, and his mouth is twitching towards something like a grin.

'Fine,' he says instead, and hefts the bands in his palm. 'Do you want to or not?'

Fai sighs, a hard-done-by sound that doesn't at all match the smirk on his face. 'I suppose that's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?' he asks.

(Kurogane loses the battle with his mouth.)

'Yeah,' he says. 'Probably.'

* * *

In the end, Fai doesn't say yes or no to Kurogane's question. He doesn't have to. They walk side by side at the tail of the procession, and the smile on Fai's face tells Kurogane everything he needs.

The procession winds its way from the Yuuka-ku to the jinja, just as Karen-dayuu said. The streets are lined with well-wishers, bright, joyful faces, and these aren't Kurogane's people, but it's… nice, all the same. More than once he sees the crowd part to admit another red-cheeked pair into the parade, and it should feel strange, walking like this, his hair dotted with petals and no sword on his hip – but it doesn't.

(Time passes, takes old fears away and crumbles them to dust.)

Fai's hand brushes his own as they walk. It's not a deliberate move, more the jostling of too many limbs in too little space, but it makes him turn slightly, look at the man beside him. The wizard's face is still grimy, but there's colour in his cheeks, and he glances up after a minute, catches Kurogane's eye. Fai's smile wobbles a bit, chin creased and lips quivering, but then it pulls firm. Then it is brilliant and honest and true.

Kurogane turns his eyes back to the road.

Something like this had happened then too, all those years ago: the pair of them wandering into the grounds of the jinja, neither one knowing what might lie ahead. Kurogane knows the man beside him is still Fai - he still pokes and teases and says ridiculous things, but that Fai could never have stood at Kurogane's side like this, could never have faced him with eyes bright and shoulders square.

Because there were so many things that Fai wanted to be, other things, impossible things, and Kurogane doesn't pretend to know all the ways the weight of Fai's burden broke him. This Fai is not perfect – because, fuck it, who is? – but he is warm and he is real and he is free in the ways that matter.

This Fai is happy to be Fai. That, Kurogane thinks, is all that fucking matters.

* * *

'This isn't quite how I expected the day to turn out,' the wizard says softly.

They're waiting their turn to exchange rings in the jinja's courtyard, the procession halted and the ritual now begun. Tradition dictates each pair should say an oath in front of the gods, and indeed, this evening the great shrine has been carried into the yard: a practicality, given the size of the crowd. The statues are festooned with jasmine and chrysanthemums, and other flowers that Kurogane doesn't know the names of. Yasha didn't look like that, the last time Kurogane saw him.

He turns his head and says, 'Oh, yeah?'

'Mm-hm.' Fai looks down at his worn yukata, still smeared with dust and grease, and pulls a face. 'If I'd known, I'd have taken a change of clothes with me this morning, for a start.'

Well, yeah. Kurogane probably wouldn't have chosen a battered haori for something like this either – a kimono would be better, maybe a furisode for Fai – but, 'Doesn't matter,' he says, shaking his head. 'Not like this is the last time we're ever gonna see each other.'

Fai grins. 'No,' he agrees, something amused in his tone. 'At least, I don't think that's the way it's supposed to work.'

Kurogane rolls his eyes. He turns to look over the heads of the throng then – he hasn't seen the kid since they parted ways outside the tent. Syaoran's face had grown warm and glad when they told him the news; he'd reached to take Fai's hand and held it tight for a minute. Kurogane had watched as Fai's fingers curled over the top of their hands, his face lit by a smile so achingly soft.

(Once there was a boy who didn't think smiles like that mattered, and another who proved him wrong.)

But Syaoran had been lost, of course, once they'd started to walk, and now it's getting close to their part to in the ceremony. The wizard must be having the same thoughts: he peers across the sea of people, a faint crease in his brow.

'Can you see Syaoran-kun anywhere?' he says.

Kurogane shakes his head. 'He'll show up.' Then, 'Here,' he says: he catches Fai's hand, presses the larger of the two rings into it.

Fai looks down at the thing, massive on his palm, and laughs. 'Puppy should be careful with this. Fairy folk might mistake it for a crown and spirit it away.'

Kurogane scowls. Idiot.

The procession moves forward – there's another exchange of rings, another soft, murmured vow. Syaoran's head bobs at the edge of the onlookers. Another exchange, and then another, then another again.

And then it's Fai stepping forward into the shadow of the shrine.

They wait a bit as the men from the jinja stomp about, wafting incense and sprinkling water – being irritating, Kurogane thinks, but pointing that out will probably hold things up more. Fai turns the ring in his fingers, once, twice, and then the men drift away. The moment is theirs.

It's funny how easily the words form on Kurogane's tongue.

He says, 'All I have, and all I am, I will share with you all my days,' and then, at Fai's wide-eyed look, he adds, 'You knew that anyway. Don't look so surprised.'

Kurogane pulls the wizard's hand towards him – not as gently, perhaps, as the princess or the kid, but he is firm, unhesitating, as he pushes the ring down. Because this is the man to whom Kurogane made his second vow in life. Not here, not now – that happened long ago. And maybe the second vow was more difficult, because it took him by surprise: he'd sworn his oaths to his master, honourable and chaste. He'd thought that would be it, his promises made, but there, amongst the rubble and the blood and the dust – there, this man managed to change his mind.

(That was then.)

He doesn't know much about redemption. He's done things he's not proud of and he can't take them back now – they're gone, done, over. On a cosmic scale, who the hell knows how the balance tips out? But he's avenged his mother and father, put those ghosts to rest. He's learned things, important things, that have made him a better man. A stronger man.

The kind of man he'd wanted to be before he lost sight of him in the crowd.

(This is now.)

Fai fumbles with the (huge) ring for a minute. 'Kuro-sama,' he says, and his throat dips as he swallows, 'I think you already know that I'm yours.'

And Kurogane smirks. Yeah, he knows that.

* * *

'I couldn't go without making my delivery,' Fuuma says, smiling. The ceremony is over now, the first sake casks cracked. In the bastard's hands there is a box, wooden and lacquered and bearing the royal seal of Nihon.

Kurogane looks at it and looks at Fuuma and says, 'What the fuck is that?'

It seems like the logical question to ask.

Fuuma clears his throat. 'Their Royal Highnesses Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi – '

'Tomoyo-chan?' Fai echoes.

'Extend their best wishes on this most overdue of nuptials,' continues Fuuma, still smiling, and Kurogane doesn't doubt he's enjoying playing royal messenger. 'They regret they could not present you with a more timely engagement gift, but your lack of proper engagement made that difficult.'

There are things Kurogane could tell the royal messenger to do with his best wishes; instead he steps forward, takes the dark, gleaming box. Juggles it in one hand and starts to fiddle with the seal.

Fai watches, curious. 'This is for us?' he says, the surprise soft in his voice.

Kurogane grunts. 'Looks like it.'

'I wonder what it… Ah!'

Fai's face is eager as the seal falls away; he pulls off the lid with quick, nimble fingers and Kurogane shifts the thing to get a better view. Inside is more or less what'd expected – clam shells and sake and a brightly painted fan, two hakama, which makes sense, and a pouch of dried bonito.

Fai holds up the cuttlefish, chuckling uneasily. 'Kuro-rin,' he says. 'I'm not sure I want this one.'

(Kurogane decides not to tell Fai that cuttlefish means 'long marriage'. Well, not like it matters – he's pretty sure dried fish cartilage isn't what binds them together.)

Then, 'What's this?'

Fai holds up a string of white woven threads. Kurogane has to squint for a moment before he remembers what it is. 'Hemp fibres,' he says, and at the wizard's questioning look, 'It means growing old and grey together - something like that.'

Fai grins, reaches for the sake tucked in the side the box. 'In that case, let's drink, Kuro-sama,' he says.

At some point in the evening, Kurogane feels a nudge on his hip, feels a hand, slim and strong, slide down over his back. He doesn't need to look to see who it is – no-one in their right mind does that to a ninja, not if they want their limbs to stay connected to their body, anyway – and in fact no-one ever had done that to Kurogane until a man with hair like the sun and smiles that lied pulled him close one day, had made him wonder what life like that might be like.

He's not willing to lay odds on whether the idiot had been in his right mind.

Kurogane doesn't need to look, because he knows it's Fai.

(This is now.)

* * *

At this point in the evening, whenever it is, the moon is fully risen; it's no longer a great luminous shape upon the horizon, but is smaller, higher in the sky. The night's still bright, though: there's plenty of moonlight, even if it is kind of hard to appreciate with the lanterns flickering about the courtyard. Across the way, he can make out Karen-dayuu locked into battle with Mokona and the woman married to the kannushi. Kurogane would scoff at a drinking contest with something (one) so small, except he's seen how much a small furry white creature can pack away in one sitting. He's more likely to scoff at anyone stupid enough to take it on.

Though at least it holds its liquor better than the kid.

At this point in the evening, Kurogane's been nursing his bottle longer than he cares to admit. Mostly because he's happy enough with the warmth settled in his belly, but also, partly, because he's gotten distracted.

A little way off, under one of the brighter lanterns, stands Syaoran, and around him are four, five, maybe six children of varying sizes. All are gazing up at him with a kind of wonder in their eyes, but one girl – the kannushi's daughter, he faintly recalls – stands at the kid's side, her face scrunched up in total concentration. Her hands are gripped around a cane rod, the kind used for hooking floating balloons at one of the game booths in the Yuuka-ku, and her arms are put up in a fighting stance. Kurogane takes another pull from the bottle and thinks the kid's technique isn't bad.

The girl he's teaching looks pretty decent too.

But then that weight nudges his side and that hand slides down his back, and Kurogane glances at Fai in the lamplight, meets hazy-dark eyes.

Fai says, 'We have another present.' Kurogane looks and the wizard's spare hand swings a bottle into view. 'I can't read what it says, of course,' he goes on, 'but Fuuma said Tomoyo-chan sent it separately from the rest of the stuff.'

Kurogane would snort at an imperial gift being labelled 'stuff', but he's too busy staring at the thing in Fai's hand. He sets his sake on the porch, reaches out to take this new bottle. The wizard's hand keeps tracing slow circles over his back, and Kurogane thinks that it feels kind of nice, even as he's staring at the kanji before him.

'Well,' Fai says after a few seconds, 'what is it?'

Kurogane licks his lips. 'Shochuu. It's a type of liquor.'

Which earns him a chuckle. 'That, I deduced for myself, Kuro-sama,' Fai says. 'What else?'

But Kurogane isn't sure what else. It's a bottle he knows well. There's nothing really special about it: it was on the tables of most of the inns outside Shirasagi, on plenty inside the palace too. He's never drunk this himself, not as an adult, but he knows the smell of it, knows the way it would burn his throat, the way it would make him gasp and grin and feel fire in his gut. And he knows, because once there was a man who favoured this drink, who sat with his son on his knee and this bottle on the table and who let the boy take small eager sips from his cup.

He knows, because this is his father's drink. Kurogane has no idea how many years have passed since it last touched his lips.

Fai's waiting for an answer. The hand on his back is trailing lower now: it's still slow, still circling, but definitely moving south. It prickles heat down his spine, makes his breath quicken and catch.

(This is now.)

'It's shochuu,' Kurogane says, more firmly this time. He drags his eyes from the bottle to the figure at his side. Fai's brow is smooth, his eyes soft and warm as he waits, and Kurogane's heart feels too small, suddenly, for the things it must contain; too limited by muscle and sinew and bone.

Still, it's the only one he's got, so it'll have to do.

Kurogane breaks the seal on the bottle and says, 'It's good.'

That's all that really needs to be said.

* * *

In the quiet of their room, Fai pulls Kurogane close, kisses him urgent and wanting and hot. Fai strips Kurogane bare save for the silver on his finger, leaves feather-soft kisses over his knuckles and thumb. They are joined and they are one and they move together in a rhythm that is familiar and right. There is nothing to confess here, nothing to forgive, and Kurogane is released: he is made whole, made new.

* * *

Kurogane wakes to the sound of shuffling on the porch outside their room. He doesn't need to wonder what it is, because he knows – the men of the jinja heading off to train. The kid'll probably join them, depending how kindly his head's treating him this morning, and yesterday Kurogane did too, but not today.

He shifts to take in the man still conked out beside him. Fai's face is pressed into the pillow, his open mouth creating a patch of damp on the cotton. His loose hair is tangled around his neck and shoulders, the blond dark with sweat, and Kurogane rolls his eyes then, because every fucking night. But he reaches across to work it free anyway; turns his wrist to twist the strands loosely together, lets it flop onto the wizard's bare back.

Fai makes a small sound – possibly pleased, probably irritable – and a minute later, one eye cracks blearily open.

'Morning,' the wizard says. He runs his tongue over his lips to wet them, raises his head a bit to cough and clear his throat. His hand twitches in place on the pillow then; his thumb curls under to twist the band on his finger and a smile creeps onto his face. 'I guess ninjas really can do anything,' he says, lazy-sly. 'Right down to perfectly fitted rings, it seems.'

Yeah, well. Kurogane knew that one was coming.

And so he hooks his arms behind his head, tells Fai about the smith and the wish and a pair of silver rings. The wizard doesn't say much afterwards, and there's not much to say – but Fai is an idiot and Kurogane knows him too well.

He prods a toe into the wizard's calf and says, 'Oi.'

Fai is quiet for a moment, watches his finger skate down Kurogane's chest. Then, 'Is that why you asked me?' In truth he sounds more curious than mournful at the possibility of that, but Kurogane doesn't care because it's still fucking stupid.

Kurogane raises his arm, lets his fist smack (reasonably lightly) down on Fai's head, and feels a wave of satisfaction as the wizard curses and rolls away. 'Really need to ask?' he asks shortly.

Fai glares. 'You're awful,' he says, still rubbing his skull, 'I should never have married a brute like you.'

And then he laughs, and the day begins.

* * *

It is in another world they find a book with squiggles Fai recognises, similar enough to Celesian that he can read it, though the spoken word does not correspond with the local tongue (a fact discovered when Mokona and the kid wander too far). From there it's not difficult to find another book that matches it to Japanese, and after that it's a regular sight, Fai curled on the couch (or the bed or the floor or a corner of the campsite in whatever world they're in), books in his hands, his lips fluttering soundlessly.

Practice is kind of tricky, but Fai does it anyway: strangely, it's when Kurogane can't quite understand that he knows the wizard's trying Japanese. Fai gets better with time, though – Kurogane's got to give him that – and his reading improves too, for all he complains about needlessly complex script. Sometimes, Syaoran take their interpreter out of range and then Fai can work on comprehension as well.

And so it's in one of these faltering conversations, running through the kind of small talk that never once passed between them ('How large is your family?' 'What is your name?') that Fai touches his arm, says, _'Ne, anata…'_

Kurogane doesn't hear the rest of the sentence. That word, which he's never heard from the wizard's lips before, leaves him momentarily stunned; knocks the breath from his lungs in a way he'd never have imagined.

_Anata._

He reaches down, brushes his fingers over a knot in the wood of the table. Tries to recall what the wizard was saying. But Fai's eyes are too sharp; the wizard's smile fades fast, his hand settling on Kurogane's arm in concern.

'Said something bad?' he asks.

Kurogane shakes his head. Thinks for a minute. Then reaches across and draws the book towards him; he flicks through it for a minute before finds what he wants, then lays it down, taps at the page.

The wizard glances down at it, then back up, askance.

Kurogane says, 'Why did you use this word?'

'Ah,' says Fai, and his face clears. His eyes roll upwards as he considers his words, then, 'This book advises to use for the spouse. Is right?'

And maybe it's just the stirring of things long forgotten – his mother used that word for his father, after all – but there's a feeling like something warm bubbling in his chest. Fai's head slants towards him, blue-gold eyes thoughtful, but then he smiles and sets the book carefully aside. That's as far as the lesson gets for the day.

Some time after the books have been stacked and the clothes straightened and Fai's resting in his lap, a heavy, warm weight, the wizard leans close enough for his breath to tickle Kurogane's ear. He whispers, _'Kuro-wan wa totemo kawaii.'_

Naturally the bastard gets that right.

* * *

And it is in another world still that Kurogane looks up from hefting shipping boxes – stuck with the grunt work again while the bastard wizard slacks off – to see said wizard standing at the entrance to the packing warehouse, a bag in his hand and a smile on his face.

'Lunch, Kuro-sama,' calls Fai.

Well, at least that's something.

He turns to the worker next to him, a woman with the same face as the bartender in Outo so many years ago, and says, 'I'm taking a break.'

She waves a hand at him. 'Go ahead. Everyone else has taken theirs already.' But then she stops folding cartons to take in their visitor. She says, 'Who's that good-looking guy bringing you lunch, Kurogane-san?' Her dark eyes glimmer with barely contained mirth. 'Your secret lover, maybe?'

Kurogane glares. Says very flatly: 'Husband.' Caldina is the centre of the rumour mill here, and he puts up with enough nonsense from his co-workers (and the manjuu) without stories like that buzzing round.

His answer has her glancing back at Fai. 'Oh, someone married you?' He huffs. 'Fair enough, brother,' she laughs, and returns to her work. 'Enjoy your lunch. Don't be late back.'

Fai has a strange look on his face when Kurogane reaches him. They walk in silence for a moment, heading for some benches on a narrow strip of grass: the place where people gather to eat or smoke or whatever in this world.

Then Fai says, lightly, 'You called me your husband.'

Kurogane looks at him, not in the mood for cryptic remarks when he's been shifting heavy things all day and is hungry. 'Yeah. So?'

And Fai grins. 'Nothing, Kuro-sama,' he says, and that settles that.

Later, with Fai flitted off again and only the heft and slide of the boxes to occupy him, Kurogane's mind wanders – to Nihon, to Shara, to a hundred different worlds. He uses his muscles for stuff like this more often than not – certainly more often than the things he was trained for (though he still wakes up early to run through katas most mornings). He doesn't know how many more days will pass until that changes. He doesn't know whether it will be months or more years again. He doesn't know whether the image he carries at the back of his head – Fai, in a furisode, in a place they call home – will ever come to pass. He doesn't know any of it. None of them do.

But he does know that home is whatever place you make it. It is where Syaoran falls asleep in his book by the warm flicker of firelight, it is where Fai curls into his back when rain thrums against the roof, makes leaving the bedclothes that little bit harder. Kurogane's eye is drawn to the ring on his finger, and he pauses a moment to rub it over the knit of his T-shirt, to bring up the shine of the silver he wears.

_Home_, he thinks, is where you make it. Kurogane is happy with his.

END

* * *

Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed the fic.


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